


Tea at Twilight

by ephemeral_afterlight



Series: After Hours [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: #Give Remus A Bedtime Story 2K19, After Hours, After Hours-verse, Disembowelment, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Gore, Impermanent Injury ???, Non-Permanent injury - Freeform, None of it actually happens, Object Impermanence, Part 1 of 3, Remus gets an injury but it heals immediately, but i'm making it one, deceit is a tired mom, discussion of gorey topics, hehe object impermanence amirite, so no, the disembowelment/blood/gore is all only talked about, wait is that a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 07:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeral_afterlight/pseuds/ephemeral_afterlight
Summary: Curiousity has always been a strong trait in Logan. Maybe that’s why he and Remus get along so well.





	Tea at Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I didn’t expect something like this to be the first work I’ve posted for this fandom, but [nachosforfree on Tumblr](https://nachosforfree.tumblr.com) mentioned wanting some intrulogical/dark sides-centric stuff so I got a bit inspired and thought up this little ficlet somewhat based on a conversation I had with [illogical-anxieties (also on Tumblr)](https://illogical-anxieties.tumblr.com) a while ago. Sorry this is so short! Next fic in the series coming soon!

It’s late afternoon this time, a quiet hush falling over the mindscape as Thomas settles into his favourite spot on the couch for yet another insomnia-fueled Netflix binge. The silence is certainly welcomed, at least in Logan’s opinion; it’s a relieving break in the hectic stream of problems that their host comically gets himself into. There’s a certain tranquility that comes in the twilight hours, lending itself to a litany of praise and an almost inherent respect from the logical side. Settling down in his big library chair with a compelling novel, a soft blanket, and a warm beverage is an especially beloved stress-relieving method of his, and one he unfortunately is unable to participate in often. However, today has been an easy day, restless after the unusually ramped-up amount of moral dilemmas Thomas and the sides have had to talk their way through and overcome in the past week, but they’ve remained mostly reserved. The others had invited Logan to join them for a low-energy movie night, but as much as Logan wishes to be a more normal, acceptable part of their group, he has long surrendered his internal protests to the knowledge that he is displaced among them, and keeping a neutral but removed facade is the only way to keep their social relations on the more amenable side of the scale. So here he is, hardback book in hand and quilted blanket resting upon his legs, losing himself in the near-incoherent, dreary prose of his favourite authour as the faint sound of a Disney movie echoes from the living room.

“Hey, Logan?” The voice comes from the direction of his bed, high and grating with an audible smile permanently ingrained in its tone. Logan has been aware of Remus’ presence, of course, but the other side hasn’t said anything before now, so he’s just left him be.

“What do you think happens when you take out someone’s entrails? Could I make a painting with their blood and guts?” Remus asks, just as inquisitive and sincere and ornery as he always is. Logan almost finds comfort in Remus’ unpredictability, because it’s so predictable. How could it not be, when nearly everything that comes out of his mouth is tainted and disturbed and curious in nature?

Curiousity has always been a strong trait in Logan. Maybe that’s why he and Remus get along so well.

“If the intestines are only resting outside the body, a person would likely fall unconscious due to blood loss within a minute or so, and die sometime during the next few. If they are cut out, however, they will experience a quicker but far more agonizing death,” Logan answers without looking up, turning a stiff page oh-so-deliberately just to hear that satisfying, searing noise. He retrieves the teacup from the saucer on which it sits, carefully bringing the warm porcelain up to his lips. The tea is still hot, but he pays no mind to the discomfort caused by the liquid sliding down his throat; the pain is never permanent, after all. Dry throat now successfully moisturized, soothed even despite the scald, the bespectacled side clears his throat to address the second part of Remus’ question. “And although painting with blood is possible, acrylic or watercolour paints are a much cheaper and more sanitary medium to use to create artwork. I’m sure that, given the necessary supplies, you would find acrylic paint much more enjoyable, especially considering the fact that you would have many more colours to paint with. A monotone piece is a bit… boring, don’t you think?”

Logan finally looks up from his novel, glancing over to where Remus lays upside down off the side of his bed. Said side looks awestruck, as if using a colour other than blood red to create art has never occurred to him, and Logan is left wondering how much of his creativity and potential is overshadowed and forcibly repressed in the face of his intrusive thoughts.

“Woah, you’re right! That does sound fun! I can use the different colours to make a painting of the blood and guts all over the floor _after_ the disembowelment! You’re so smart!” Remus exclaims, childlike wonder acting as a juxtapose to the horrific imagery his words exhibit so proudly. Logan finds himself smiling despite himself, huffing a silent laugh under his breath as he slips a slim finger into the teacup handle once again. The tea has cooled considerably by now, much more tolerable than before, and the logical side finds himself unable to drop his tiny grin even as he sips quietly on the strong beverage.

“Hey, Logan, have you seen-”

Before Logan can reply, his door opens after a few short knocks, and a certain snake-themed side pokes his head through the doorway. He apparently didn’t open the door enough, though, so his bowler hat is dislodged from his head with the force of the frame pushing back on it, and it falls to the floor somewhat anticlimactically. Deceit stops in his tracks and stands there as he stares ruefully at his fallen hat, muttering something under his breath after a moment that sounds suspiciously like a eulogy.

“Dee!” Remus exclaims happily, rolling backwards off the edge of Logan’s bed and hitting the floor with a sickening crack. The logical side has learned not to worry about Remus retaining any of the injuries he (usually purposely) inflicts on himself, but it doesn’t mean that his heart doesn’t jump minutely in his chest or that his fingers don’t twitch in his aborted impulse reaction to reach out and somehow remedy the new laceration or contusion on Remus’ body he knows will disappear within seconds. And sure enough, Remus is already up and bouncing in excitement like a puppy dog bounding to greet its owner after a long, arduous day of chewing up shoes and getting into things it shouldn’t.

Deceit reaches down to pick up his hat, enduring the friendly butt slap from Remus without so much as a flinch, which is likely testament to how often the wayward twin uses the action as a greeting (and probably for goodbyes, too. And any other excuse he can use to touch someone’s butt). After plopping the black bowler right back on his head, Deceit sighs, reaching a gloved hand up to ruffle Remus’ wild, unruly hair. The latter of the two displays a bright, toothy grin, even as the snake-like side gently yanks Remus’ head to the side by his hair, sticking his tongue out in a playfully mocking challenge. Logan’s eyes swim with mirth as he watches the casual interaction, and the amused smirk that finds its way onto his face doesn’t let up when Remus lightheartedly punches Deceit on his upper arm. “Alright, Rem, enough messing around. Time for bed. You know how you get when you stay up past ten.”

Remus pouts, then opens his mouth to start complaining. Deceit is obviously used to this, so he gently but firmly grabs Remus by the arm and steers him around into the hallway. The second twin’s incessant whines fall on deaf ears, though–Deceit simply ignores him and turns back around briefly to send Logan a courteous wave. The bespectacled side returns it congenially, then turns back to his novel. The tea has completely cooled in his grasp, and Logan finishes the rest of it off in a single swallow before delicately placing the ornate cup back onto the saucer. He curls into the blanket again, relaxed and drowsy, and turns the page as he hears Remus’ requests for a bedtime story met with Deceit’s exasperated groans fade out down the hall.

And if Logan walks past Remus’ room the next night and sees him conjuring gleaming palettes and smooth canvasses and an array of colours of bold, bright paint to use to his heart’s content, well, nobody has to know about how much more content he is for it.

**Author's Note:**

> [(Cross-posted from Tumblr)](https://ephemeral-afterlight.tumblr.com/post/187550800427/tea-at-twilight)


End file.
